


Sometimes at Night

by femmenoire



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenoire/pseuds/femmenoire
Summary: Gwen dreams of a lover past. Was he a dream or had he been real?





	Sometimes at Night

She'd long since stopped caring about titles and gold and gowns.   
People bowing to her and deferring to her whims never held much appeal.

Arthur had changed.

He used to run his hands along her forearm. Reveling in the warmth of skin against skin, even if only to run his fingertips across the soft hair on her arms. 

He used to lean in close at court dinners, pretending to whisper in her ear just to take a long whiff of her perfume. 

Rose water

Now it was heirs.   
And the kingdom. 

Legacies. 

And birthrights. 

At night she lay in bed. Tossing and turning. 

Alone. 

The King's chamber next door, his body just a few feet from her own. 

She didn't miss him, even though she thought she would. 

She reminisced instead. 

On hands, only lightly roughened by a sword. The warm, musky scent of horse and wolf. 

A warm mouth between her legs. 

She wondered if he was a dream. 

If it was magic. Something a sorcerer conjured to tempt her. And lead her astray. 

She would thank the magician if she could. 

The thought of Robb. 

Hot and sweaty atop her. His lips on her forehead. Whispering into the air. Moaning her name  
Bruising her skin in lust and frustration. 

"I want all of you," he'd say. 

She laughed. 

"Impossible," she said. "I have to keep something for myself." In hindsight she wished she had given him everything. 

He was long gone, she knew.She felt it, somewhere deep inside. There was no one there to confirm his absence. No one who even knew his name in this realm. 

His homeland was a fairytale Camelot mothers told their children to scare them. "A winter that lasts for decades. Do you want that? Then eat your vegetables."

But he had been real, she kept telling herself. 

He’d felt real. 

She lay in her bed. 

The castle was quiet, not even the bakers called to each other that night while they rolled out tomorrow's dough. 

Her hand slipped underneath her covers. She remembered running her fingers through his curls. 

His smile. 

She came. 

And wept. 

And fell asleep to the sound of Arthur's snores, breaking through Camelot's stone walls.


End file.
